


Panic

by Otempura



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Original Fiction, Panic Attacks, something not right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11808315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otempura/pseuds/Otempura
Summary: He always knows when it's building, it starts as a general feel of unease that follows him throughout the day. Like clockwork he raises from bed and that feeling of being off strikes him. Something in his brain repeatedly sends a signal to the rest of his body, 'something is not right.'





	Panic

He always knows when it's building, it starts as a general feel of unease that follows him throughout the day. Like clockwork he raises from bed and that feeling of being off strikes him. Something in his brain repeatedly sends a signal to the rest of his body, 'something is not right.' 

It affects his mood throughout the day; his coworkers tell him to brighten up, his boss tells him to stop moping around and get some work done, his friends ask him if he's alright. He knows there is nothing wrong but he cannot put to words what exactly it is, and so every time he is asked he simply says, "I'm fine, everything is okay." 

He worries his lip throughout the day and the tightness builds in his chest; a sharp ache that never really leaves. A drowning sensation is in the center of his ribs, as if he is breathing water and he cannot clear himself of it; it overwhelms him. He gets dizzy with it, but closes his eyes and repeats to himself that he is fine, there is nothing wrong and everything is alright. 

He makes it home and sits in his room. The lights are off and the shades are drawn as he focuses on his breathing. He covers his head with his duvet and imagines a perfect world and allows the dream to put him fitfully to sleep. He awakens again in the morning and it is the same routine; some days are better than others.  
One day he wakes up and it is strangely worse. The feeling follows him and the ache is so much stronger and then something happens inexplicably to set him off; a client is much harsher and harder to handle, a coworker more biting than ever... or even just a simple change in the wind.

He feels his heart tighten in his chest, a sharp pain hits him and he is overwhelmed with the dizziness. He knows that he can breath but his brain says, 'No, you cannot.' 

He gasps for breath and covers his face with his hands, 'Don't look at me!' He thinks, as others crowd around him, confused. They ask him what is wrong, but he still cannot put to words what it is. He gets confused, and cannot speak; he does not know why he feels the way he does, he does not understand what is happening. He hyperventilates and manages to whisper, "H-Help. Help me. I cannot breath." 

A person approaches, and tells him to uncover his mouth, he is making it worse. He does not remember covering his mouth; he curls in upon himself. He is ashamed and cannot make his body behave. He does not uncover his mouth, and he curls in upon himself, bending himself into a ball, trying to hide. He is scared and he is dizzy, his breaths are growing more ragged. 

He is crying, he realizes; why is he crying? What is happening? The ache in his chest grows sharper and he is more scared than ever until he hears a calm voice telling him that he will be okay. He does not believe it. 

The voice has a stern hand, and strong arms; they make him uncurl and they take his hands away from his face. They look at him and tell him to control his breathing; they make him hold his breath and make him count. They tell him to breath out slowly and he does in stutters, his eyes wide and his body shaking. He almost goes back into convulsions but they do not let him; they get his attention and have him hold his breath again. 

Eventually he realizes that he can breathe again. His chest is still tight, that feeling never really goes away but he is breathing almost normally. The man who made him count tells him to continue his exercises with breath while the other holds his hand in a stern grip; he pricks his finger and lets the blood ooze to the tip. 

The man sticks paper to the finger, he says he is testing his sugar. The man is asking questions and he realizes that this other is a paramedic. Someone has called an ambulance. He answers the other monotonously; this has happened once before; they will tell him to eat more and urge him to go to the hospital. They will tell him that his blood sugar is low and that he has a caffeine addiction and then they will usher him out as quickly as possible while they attempt to get 'real' patients into the valuable space of the E.R. 

He accepts the glucose packet from the paramedic, and declines a ride to the hospital. He gives the other his insurance papers to pay for the service and assures the other that he will be fine. He has been filled with a sense of calm; a quiet that always happens after these fits. He is calm and cool and he feels like he has been wrapped in a warm balm; nothing can get to him. Nothing can touch him. 

The paramedic leaves and he decides to go home and take the rest of the day off. He sits in his quiet and dark room and covers his head; he thinks of a perfect world, where everything is as it should be and nothing could ever be wrong. 

He closes his eyes. 

He sleeps. 

Until he wakes and the cycle begins again.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not edit this piece; I haven't even read through it after I wrote it, so I hope it wasn't too offensively bad. 
> 
> I suppose if you feel like you're drowning and you don't know what is wrong do not let yourself deal with it. Talk to a professional and get help. You don't have to do it alone. There is no shame in getting the help you need; you deserve help. You deserve it. (just wanted to say this.)


End file.
